


Pineapple

by DefiledCinephile



Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: ALL SERIES 1 through 5 CAST, Aftercare, Ass Play, BDSM Scene, Collars, Cuckolding, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Play, Dungeon, Embarrassment, F/F, F/M, Face Slapping, Foot Fetish, Fucking, Group Sex, Human Furniture, M/M, Marks, Oral Sex, Painplay, Pegging, Photographs, Piggyback Rides, Pineapples, Public Humiliation, Puppy Play, Rules, S&M, Safewords, Sensation Play, Service Kink, Sharing, Surprise Party, Verbal Humiliation, Whipping, clothespins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28112643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefiledCinephile/pseuds/DefiledCinephile
Summary: Alex is in for a special treat when Greg throws an alumni party, and EVERYONE from series 1 through 5 is there.
Relationships: Alex Horne/Rachel Horne, Greg Davies/Alex Horne, Greg Davies/Alex Horne/Rachel Horne, Greg Davies/Katherine Ryan, Greg Davies/Rachel Horne, Greg Davies/Sally Phillips, Mel Giedroyc/Alex Horne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Pineapple

It’s an early autumn evening, sun already low in the sky, it's rays reaching out, desperately, in their dying minutes. The air is crisp as it whips up with bursts of burnt reds and golden yellows. Crinkled leaves scrape across the paved cement.

Greg stands in the doorway of the set house, finding the cool breeze invigorating after such a long and tedious day shooting promos and bumpers for the next series.

“Have a good one, gents.” He waves off the few remaining crew members and watches as they pile into their vehicles. Alex ducks under his arm and slides past him out the door. Greg catches him by the shoulder. “Got a minute?”

“Uh … yes?” He turns, nervously. Greg motions behind him, and then backs inside – _back inside - the Taskmaster house_. Alex trails behind, his footing uneasy.

As they round the corner into the main room Greg suddenly stops short. He swivels around and stares down, a chilling glare that, out of trained reflex, prompts Alex to slowly sink to his knees. “No.” Greg grasps the shoulder of his jacket a second time. “Get up - what’re you doing?”

“Sorry. I just thought - maybe you … ” he jokes.

“You really have no shame, do you? Anyone could have seen you just now.”

Rather thrown by his tone, Alex appeals, “They just left, you saw them out. And since when do you mind if - ”

“You want everyone to know, don’t you?”

“No … ”

Greg scoffs. “Really!? Coulda fucking fooled me - the way you act.”

“The way _I_ act? Greg - what do you think they all thought just now when you go and get rid of them and then they see you take me back inside. It’s _your_ behaviour that - ”

“What was that?”

“It’s _your behaviour_ \- ”

“ _Your behaviour_ – exactly what I wanted to discuss. There's a running theme throughout this house, and the show.”

“Well - ”

“Besides me – _obviously_. A much more subtle – yet recurring symbol – they’re everywhere throughout this house - the tasks. Something that has a unique importance to you … ” His fingers graze along the gold metallic fronds of a nearby example.

“Oh … yeah, you mean all the – pineapple stuff, I uh - you know – they can be used to signify good cheer or to create a warm and welcoming atmosphere, plus – they have powerful associations with royalty.” He gestures up and down at Greg and smiles sheepishly. “So I just thought that - ”

“ _And_ _…_ ” Greg prompts.

“And … ?”

“It also happens to be your safe word, Alex.”

“Well yeah, but - that has nothing to do with why - ”

“You don’t think you’re getting a little too obvious with all this shit?”

“The ones who get it - love it. And the ones who don’t just think it’s all a gag.”

“Increasingly not. Letting Al goad you with money like a desperate little monkey. Crawling across the floor like my filthy, disgusting carpet snake - and now bringing your dog bed in for this last season?” He flashes him a knowing look, one steeped in condescension. “You’re really starting to give yourself away, my friend.”

“ _You’re_ the one who made me do the carpet snake!”

“Maybe so, but _you_ wrote in laying at my feet in _your_ dog bed, and it was _you_ who set himself up to be punished - by me - on telly!”

“Well _you_ started using the whole Little Alex Horne thing and now everyone in the street shouts it at me, _what about that!?_ ” He was fast losing the battle with his temper. It bubbled up just beneath the surface, dissolving away his good nature with it’s venom of hurt and upset.

In an attempt to temper Alex’s temper, Greg lowers his voice, and softens his tone. “No one knows what that really means.”

He watches as Alex calms himself, starting out too strong, still quite wound up, but by the end almost entirely matching Greg’s newly established energy. “No one knows what the pineapple really means, Greg. They just think it’s another easter egg - like Bob’s oranges, all the fucking fish puns or the ties I wore for Mel.”

He places a hefty hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re wrong about that. They all know.”

“ _They who?_ ”

“The cast. The crew. The audience. They all already know, Alex. They’ve all got you pegged. Just like I had you all figured out the first time we met. Think about it - how long did it take me to have you under foot, aye? Maybe … twenty minutes?” He pinches his cheek with a cruel snort. “You’re far too easy.”

Eyes brimming with hurt and upset now flash with anger. Greg could instantly see the switch, for masking his true feelings was not a skill Alex had ever quite managed to master. “I think I can recall lasting a bit longer than that.”

“Okay. If you say so,” Greg soothes through his sneer.

“Is that all?” Alex snaps, only just managing to bite back his tongue. “That you would like to discuss - because uh - I'm just going to – get going I think, actually.” He turns with a huff.

“Sure. I’m ready whenever you are.”

He stutter steps. Stops for a second. But not wanting to allow him the satisfaction of turning around, or asking for any further clarification, he continues forward, Greg plodding close behind. They exit the house together in total silence. Alex locks the door and stalks over to his car, deciding it best not to look up, not to say anything further.

As he struggles and fumbles to find his fob, Greg casually strolls over to his passenger side door.

“Sorry, but - ” Alex looks around. Wild hands still searching. _“Where’s your car?”_

“Garage. Rachel said you’d give me a lift.”

“Ooo-kay … Of course she did.” His mind didn’t work well when seething. His hands weren’t even looking properly at this point. He just wanted desperately to start driving. Away. From here. From him.

“Alex.” Greg sets the keys on the roof of his car. “I grabbed them from the hook by the door when you stormed out just now.”

Alex snatches them back. “I didn’t storm out.”

Greg makes a quick face. “Sure seemed like it.”

“Look let’s just go.” He gets in the car and slams the door shut. Greg gets in alongside him and smiles, choosing to allow his tone and annoyance, for the moment.

As Alex pulls out onto the main road, Greg awkwardly feels out for the switches to adjust his seat, then fiddles around until he finds a comfortable position.

“I know, I know – it's cramped in here – _sorry about that_ – but I really didn’t know that I'd be - ”

“Alex. I’m fine. _Are you?_ ”

“Yeah, well, slightly confused to be perfectly honest, _but apart from that?_ ”

“Confused by what?”

“I thought you were upset, with me, just now – I mean - you were basically just saying I’ve gone too far – with - with _everything apparently_ \- so why is it me now who’s mad - and why are you so suddenly concerned about what everyone else thinks – I thought that we – if you want to cool it, I mean, I get it – but most of the time it’s you who starts it, so I just don’t understand why you'd be - ”

“ _Alex_. I don’t wanna cool anything.”

 _“You don’t?”_ Relief resonated from deep within the question. He steals a glance from the road.

“No. Absolutely not. In fact – quite the opposite, I'd say. _Eyes on the road._ ” He plays with the hairs along his collar. “I want to push this whole thing a little further, but I need to be sure that you’re not in over your head already, that you’re okay with where all this is heading. It can be hard to tell with you sometimes, what you’re really thinking. I need to know that it doesn’t bother you that people know about us now, that people know about you. I'm trying to prepare you. It’s not a secret anymore, what you’re up to. _Maybe_ , it never was.”

“I don’t care what everyone thinks about us, or me, Greg. I just don’t want to lose _this_ – and everything else we’ve built together – that’s _really_ important to me.”

“It’s important to me, too.” He pats his thigh a few times. A gentle squeeze. A lingering rub.

They sat in comfortable silence much of the way there.

Alex couldn’t help but wonder exactly what Greg’s game was here, what he was playing at, what plans he might have in place for the night – and whether or not those would be including him. It was feeling more and more like he was surely walking into a scene, of some sort, but not wanting to be presumptive, or get his hopes up too high, he didn’t pry.

It was dark by the time they made it to his home, but as Alex turned into the driveway he found it was already packed with vehicles, lights on in the house, people milling about inside.

“ _Oh_. Umm … ” Alex is at first disappointed by the number of people that would steal Greg’s attention, then relieved as he thought how easy it would be to just slip off, to head home immediately, then he thought, curiously, why he hadn’t mentioned he was late to a party and finally, a little hurt, why hadn’t he been invited, but instead used as a chauffeur?

Greg’s hand moves from his thigh for the first time in an hour as he shifts in the seat to point out a spot. “Just to the right there, I see some room.”

“Uh – _Greg?_ ” He asks with heightened anxiety as he pulls in next to Rachel’s car.

“ _Did I not tell you?_ ” Greg smiles mischievously. “I’ve thrown an alumni party. Cast members only. I figure Rachel’s an honorary member at this point though, right?”

He turns the ignition off.

“And guess who's the guest of honour.”

The lights fade out as he looks across the darkened car to Greg's shadowy glare. “Meaning?”

“I'm sure a smart thing like you can figure it out, no?”

He gets out and makes his way around to the driver side door. Even through the darkened, glaring glass Greg could tell he was completely frozen in place. He opens his door and carefully reaches across to unfasten his seatbelt, but Alex still doesn’t budge. His hands grip the wheel, too tightly, his breathing is anxious, panicked. Greg lights a cigarette, rests an elbow on the hood of the car and gives him a moment to process. He smiles to himself, glancing in at the party he had planned and which was now very much afoot. He takes a few more drags as he goes over the general plan again one more time in his head.

He squats down and extends his cigarette. “Come on then, mate.” It’s enough to lubricate his hands away from the wheel. He accepts it, but with eyes only mildly relieved.

“ _Don’t grass_ – our secret, yeah?”

Taking a long drag, he exhales and nods. “Thank you.” He stands up, alongside Greg, it was the only place he ever felt truly small - in his presence.

The house was thumping with music, abuzz with chatter, the volume of which only grew as they approached. Alex finishes off the cigarette and tosses it into the designated bin on his way up the front steps.

As they reach the door, Greg grasps the handle, but then turns back. All kindness had drained from his features. There was no longer any doubt, whatever this was - it had now begun.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” It was the voice, the look he often used when it was time to play, the one that seemed to change his brain somehow, rewire it, the one that encouraged him to be his more unfettered, raw self, the shift was so subtle, yet unmistakable to him now. Greg motions to the box.

“Tonight, but - ?”

“ _But what - Alex?_ Yes, tonight – as well as every other time you enter my house. There are no exceptions to that rule. Ever. I think I've been pretty clear on that. And since you don’t have any issues with _everyone_ knowing, then I'm really not sure I see the problem.”

Alex sulks.

“ _Lose that lip._ I'll be back in a bit to fetch you so you best look the part – and don’t go sneaking in - _or else._ ”

Cheers erupt as Greg slips inside, dulled only as the door closes - in his face. He bites back his pouting lip and moves out from under the illumination of the porch light into the shadows, toward the box.

Gravel crunches. Headlights fade out. And as the scuffling footsteps close in, he fumbles his phone. It lands on the porch with a thud. He wished he was invisible.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Romesh startles slightly at the sound on his way up the steps. “Hey … oh, Alex!? Fucking scared me, lurking over there in the dark. What’re you doing, mate?”

“Oh, uh - nothing. I'll just be a minute. Nice to see you, Rom.”

“Need a hand with anything?”

“No – no I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. Thank you though.”

“Okay, well, see you inside.”

“Yep. Inside. In a bit.”

Romesh shakes his head and disappears inside.

Alex slips off his jacket, his watch, his shoes. He places them in the box along with his phone, takes his collar in hand and walks to his usual position in front of the door. He hears the crunch, spies another set of headlights on the approach and shudders with embarrassment. It was too late to hide from any of it now. He attaches his collar. The lights behind him fade as he lowers to his knees. If people already knew, then there was really no reason to be humiliated, _was there._

“And who’s this now? Yeah … of course it is, it’s Alex.” Katherine runs her hand along his shoulder. He notices her boots, his breath catches. She pinches his ear lobe and smiles down at him.

In his other ear, it was unmistakably Sally, her words drip with a seductive sauce. “I bet you've missed me, huh? I've certainly missed you, _Little Alex Horne_.” She scratches the skin beneath his collar with one nail, almost as if she knew exactly where the inscription was located. A ripple of fear courses through him. _How much did people know?_

“And what're we doing out here, hmm? All by our lonesome.” Mel sits on the top step and looks him over.

“Waiting. For Greg. I wasn’t – properly prepared for the party.”

“I see.” She tips his chin up and their eyes meet. “Maybe I can try and sweet talk him a bit for you.”

“Thank you, Mel. Katherine.” He gulps and gazes back down at the wooden planks. “ _Sally_. Really, lovely of you ladies to come.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t have missed this.” She swings the door open and is immediately greeted by Greg.

“Ladies! That makes for a perfect attendance – _ooh - I am pleased._ ”

“Well, Greg, how exactly does one go about remaining in your good graces?” She rubs a hand up his chest and along his collarbone. “Because I plan on going for a gold star.”

“ _Sally_. I imagine you could earn one - ” He kisses her hand, and guides her, slides her, by his body. “ - quite easily - just - behave yourself for now, and I’ll promise to make it _very_ worth your while later on.”

“I’ll take it into consideration.”

“Katherine. Arriving all together, aye, so it’s fair to assume you ladies are all studied up?”

“The rules are clear and understood by all, Greg. There will be _zero_ fuckups – I can assure you.”

“Good, good.”

“I’m always just trying to get it done for you,” she jokes.

He chuckles, “It didn’t go unnoticed.” Lascivious eyes roam, then zero in on her boots. “These were an excellent choice by the way. And I just want to double check with you - that uh - ”

“She’s agreed to be on her very best behaviour,” she says, and then a bit louder for Alex's benefit, “that is, until later of course.”

“Naturally. Please.” He ushers her into his home.

“Greg? Is it alright if Alex comes in, now?” Mel makes a frowny face and motions over her shoulder. Greg leans to look past her. Alex’s eyes were glued to the porch.

“ _Why?_ Did he ask you if he could?”

“No, but - ” A concerned, motherly squint to her eyes, she tilts her head and mouths the last bit silently, “ _He's nervous._ ”

Greg hides a wince as he looks by her at Alex once more. “See you inside, Mel.” He smiles down at her. She squeezes his arm as she sidles in.

He clicks the door closed and takes a seat, facing opposite, but lightly brushing against his shoulder as he does so. Greg looks out across the yard, and talks quietly - just for him.

“Such a beautiful night, innit?”

“Yes, sir. The breeze is quite refreshing.”

“You look so nice like this – you do know that. That collar really suits you. I _almost_ don’t want to share you with everyone tonight, I mean I could just whisk you off into the shadows right over there – hmm ? Fuck you so hard - _absolutely destroy you_ , just leave you out there in the cold, wet grass, too broken for anyone else to play with – ever again – yeah, I _almost_ just want to lock you away and keep you all to myself - forever … _Almost_.”

Alex chuckles awkwardly, a shy smile cracking his otherwise sullen demeanor.

Greg leans back. “That’s what I like to see. Hey – look at me a minute. I know you know you can trust me, yeah, but – you still nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you need some time?”

“No. No, I'm ready, sir.”

Greg stands. “Come on, then.” Alex gets to his feet. “We'll sneak in around the back, yeah.” Greg leads the way, Alex’s socked feet cool as they pad across the patio stones that wrap round the unlit side of his house and into the backyard. The air smells of end of season flowers and cold, damp earth. He holds the door to the kitchen open with one arm and guides Alex past him with the other. “Go on.”

He manages only two steps before again, freezing in place. It was Rachel. She wore a beautifully sinister expression. In leather boots, tight sequined skirt and low cut sweater. This wasn’t his wife, not in this moment.

Greg whispers behind his ear. “And what do we think might be a nice way to greet your Mistress, hmm?” Alex falls onto hands and knees. “That’s it. Good boy.” He crawls the few feet to her boots.

“Good evening, Mistress. Thank you so very much for being here tonight.”

“Thank me properly, Alex.”

He dips his lips to kiss the tip of each boot. “Thank you, Mistress.”

She pushes him off balance with the sole of her boot. “Over there. Take a seat.” It was a school desk, one intended for a small child. To sit down at all was a struggle, and even after he'd managed to wedge his ass into place, his knees still stuck cartoonishly out the sides.

She rests a hand on the surface of the desk. “I’ve prepared all the snacks and drinks for tonight, and you'll be doling them out. You have twenty minutes to eat something before you serve our guests.” She leans forward, purrs, “ _Your friends._ ” He can feel her breath as he desperately tries to maintain eye contact, knowing that even the slightest peek down her cleavage right now would be a punishable offense.

She pulls back, her eyes narrow. “I _’m sorry, but - have you been smoking?_ ”

Alex opens his mouth, but words don’t come out.

“It was probably just from me, Rach. I was smoking in the car - on the way. Most of the way. Force of habit.”

She grasps Alex’s right hand at the wrist. Tugs it toward her. And smells his fingers. Clearly not super convinced by the argument, she shoots Greg a scathing look, he doesn’t break.

“And I'm rather handsy so ... ”

“I call bullshit on that theory. _But_ \- I’m sensing the two of you are in cahoots on this one, so I'll let it slide, _this time_ , and only because … it’s dinner time.”

Rachel plates him up a few pineapple pork skewers and pours him a large glass of water.

“Aren’t you the lucky boy. Getting the advanced tasting menu treatment.” Greg reaches for one and Rachel playfully slaps his hand.

“Sort of. There’re also a couple of drink options, but you won’t be having any of those - strictly water for you. Until after anyway. We need you lucid.” Alex starts picking off bits of barbequed pork. “Greg and I will similarly be staying sober, as well as _three_ _guests_ \- who'll be joining us later on.” He nearly chokes on a pineapple chunk. It was difficult to get a bite down whilst being bombarded by the night’s events, his brain only now beginning to piece together what was about to enfold. It was hard to work up any sort of appetite when he was this anxious and excited, but he did try his best, as always, to do as they asked.

“Try and eat it all, okay, you're gonna need the energy.”

Alex finishes off what he’d been given.

“What do you think - one more?” Greg asks.

He shakes his head, and then looks up at Rachel with eyes overloaded, yet apologetic. “They’re delicious, thank you, it’s just – I'm not very hungry.”

“You’ve no room at all then, aye? _Not even for a little dessert?_ ” He could tell instantly by Alex’s face that he wished he’d changed his answer. “I mean, this is your party after all, do special boys not deserve some treats, I thought so, but – _okay_ , Rachel you know what we actually won’t be needing - ”

He squeaks, eyes beg. “Oh, hold on.” Greg smiles. “I think someone's changed his mind about just how full he is.”

She brings him a small scoop of bourbon ice cream on a grilled pineapple ring, caramel oozes from atop. Suddenly, his appetite returns. He wolfs down the entire bowl, easily.

“Such a sweet tooth,” Greg chides.

“You’re time’s up,” Rachel teases, and then, much more seriously, “Stand up.”

It took longer than he would have liked to unfold his cramped legs and knees from the tiny desk, but finally managing to find his footing, he stands up. Greg slaps him across the cheek. Just once, but hard. “Now, strip.”

Worried eyes shift from the connecting door, where the noises of the party only grew, then back to Greg. His eyes pleading for him to obey all their agreements as he begins to unbutton his shirt. He peels it off and unbuckles his belt.

“This is what you'll be wearing tonight.” She holds up a pair of hot pink pants covered in pineapple print. “And they took me forever to find, so I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

He smiles ashamedly. “I love them, thank you, Mistress. It’s - just these, then, is it?”

“Well, there is one more piece to the outfit.” Greg smirks as he rips a strip of gaffer tape from a nearby roll. Alex gulps. He tears it away with his teeth and pastes it roughly across his mouth. His trousers fall to the floor. He folds everything into a neat pile and places it on the desk's chair - out of the way. Removing his pants and exchanging them for the brightly coloured new ones.

He stood before them both - in nothing but his new pants.

“I think he’s ready.” Rachel checks with Greg.

His eyes examine every inch. He runs his thumb along the edge of the tape, then over his cheek. “ _Almost_.” Alex’s mind sparks. Greg loved a good callback - even during a scene. He grabs a black sharpie and writes HUMILIATE ME across the tape, which Alex only knew because Greg so kindly sounded it out for him as he wrote it across his lips. He draws the outline of a crosshatched pineapple over his heart. It was muddled by his chest hair, but he didn’t mind, he appreciated the thoughtful placement, his tender touch. There was a depth to what was silently being said – and it was moving.

Rachel steps up with a gold and dark green marker, she etches out an elegant one along his hand with fronds that stretched half way up his forearm. “Just to get people started. There.”

“Now he’s all set.”

Alex’s heart was racing, it was one thing being in here, with them, but even thinking of setting foot into that other room felt impossibly embarrassing. Dark questions he didn’t necessarily want any answers to, circle his head.

“I assure you, Alex. Everyone will follow the rules - _all of them_ – and I’ll be right there - to make sure of it. Rachel here - will be documenting your exploits, for us select few to enjoy later.”

Greg places his hand over his pineapple picture, over Alex’s heart. His bare chest is heaving, nostrils flared, features frantic. “Hey – close your eyes a minute. Big breath in … and _slow out_. Good. Again.” His hand didn’t move. It was warming. Rachel massages some of the tension from his shoulders, his muscles begin to relax. “Better. _Again ..._ ” He can feel his heart beat normalize under the heat of Greg’s palm and the repetition of his voice.

She loads him up with a tray of skewers.

“Okay, here we go. Follow my lead.” Greg bursts through the connecting door, into the main room and announces, “Snack time!” Cheers quickly devolve into sniggers and giggles as he sashays to the side revealing Alex and his tray. “Step right up. Drinks’ll be along shortly, but we’ve got a bit of a nosh here to tie you over til then.”

There is an immediate beeline of people that steam toward him. They quickly and completely pillage the tray. He feels his whole body flush, attempting to feign a certain jovial nonchalance as people begin to make little comments on his outfit, or lack of one. Some are nervous, apprehensive and unsure of themselves. Some simply laugh and others whisper, beaming from behind cupped hands.

He wanders the room, guided by Greg, returning to the kitchen multiple times for Rachel to refill his tray, careful to make sure everyone is well supplied with snacks before switching over to drinks.

He was loaded up with pina coladas, pineapple whiskey sours and waters. They didn’t last long. Neither did tray after tray of refills. Alex stayed close by Greg's side, who joked and made small talk with everyone, inspiring and spurring on their cruelty, and clearly building others up in some way.

Last were the desserts – small scoops of that delicious bourbon ice cream served on grilled pineapple rings, dripping with that caramel sauce. His mouth waters, knowing exactly what he was missing out on, as he passes them out, to greedy hands and pleased as punch faces.

“That’s the last of it,” Rachel says as she piles a few more bowls onto his tray. She reaches for her camera and begins to adjust the lens.

Alex didn’t make it two steps through the doorway before he was immediately mugged of the remaining desserts.

“Go and get rid of that.”

Rachel hands him a jar full of sharpies as he sets down the tray. “I’m not here during this next bit, _okay?_ If you need something – it’s _Greg only_ , got it?”

He nods.

“Go on then. And give those to Greg.” She shepherds him through the door.

Greg leans in to his ear as he takes the cup of markers. “You’ll give the vanilla lot a good show, yeah - I know you wouldn’t dare disappoint us, but don’t go tiring yourself out for the _real festivities. Understood?_ ”

Alex nods.

Greg's voice raises only a few decibels and yet immediately everyone in the room stops and turns to pay attention. Alex was always in absolute awe watching him take control of a room, of a crowd – such a commanding presence. “I hope you all enjoyed the snacks. _Thank you, Rachel_ – everything was fucking delicious!” Some clapped, others cheered. She acknowledged this with good humor before turning her attention back to the camera. “Just a few points of order, then I'll let you get back to it. Over the past couple of years this man has humiliated all of you, _some - more than others_ , and tonight, is your chance to get him back. By the time this night is over this man should have twenty five more pineapples somewhere on this pathetic pasty body of his. Twenty five more pineapples to represent each and every one of you - and your revenge . The name of the game is simple, it’s written right here.” He slaps taps against his cheek in quick succession. “Rules. These - ” He snaps the fabric band of his pants. “- stay on at all times. And _do not draw anywhere_ on this lovely little face of his. Other than that, if you’re unsure whether you should do it, you ask me first. Let’s keep it soft core people. Rachel will be taking some photos this evening. I would like to assure you they are close ups of this man and this man only. Your faces will not appear in any photo taken this evening. I think that’s it, yeah?” He looks to Rachel and she seems to concur. “Right, enjoy!”

He turns back to Alex and lowers his voice as the party immediately picks back up its pulse and continues to throb around them. “You’ll keep a count of our pineapples, yeah, how many did you start with?”

He holds up two fingers.

“Try again.”

Alex looks down at his own tattoo and then back up, sheepishly, with three fingers displayed this time.

“Right, and we want twenty eight in total, so don’t go losing track on me now.”

Greg pushes him along, one hand between his shoulder blades, guiding his path and momentum. “Enjoying the desserts, are we? I see you two sneaks both managed to scrounge up seconds.”

Rob and Sara giggle, awkwardly, uncomfortably.

“Yeah, we’re real stealthy – when it comes to treats.”

“So good, I like the whole tropical vibe you got going, I was just saying to Rob that it'd taste even better on like - an island beach getaway or somewhere with, you know - sun.”

“Alex, you heard Sara, we need to up the game in the tropical department, create a relaxing remote island moment so the twins here can fully enjoy their last few bites.”

Greg references some of the party décor, large ugly plastic palm fronds. He unsticks two from the wall and begins to fan them. They lean back, giggling much more genuinely this time, and enjoy the rest of their desserts.

“Care to make your mark.” Greg shakes the cup of sharpies, behind them, between them. They each choose a marker at random.

“That’s enough, cabana boy.” Greg growls. Alex immediately stops fanning, his hands drift to his sides. His tone softens again as he indicates to the canvas. “Please.”

Sara draws a red one on his upper arm, Rob, a blue one as a tramp stamp.

“Whaddya think?”

“Ooh! That’s good. Mine just looks like a spiky red waffle.”

_Five._

“GREG!” Nish yells out from across the crowded room, he bridges the gap between them quickly and whispers something to him. A smile cracks his stern façade. And soon, Alex is being dragged off in that direction.

“So, it’s a race then, is it?”

“I’ll keep time.” Hugh holds up his phone. “Alex'll start here. The racer will raise his hand, wait for my signal before mounting and then he will be piggybacking them to … here. Fastest Alex piggyback wins.”

Nish was up first. He signals and jumps up all at once, but also throws his weight unevenly onto him and tells him to go before they’re even stable, Alex only makes it a few feet before they topple to the side into a giggling heap.

Alex gets up and goes back to the starting line.

Paul hops up easily, but then provides little direction. Alex starts to move forward, but Paul gets distracted by something Greg has hanging on the wall and steers him off course to go take a look. Finally, after a few minutes, Hugh is forced to officially deem him DNF.

Alex goes back to the starting line.

“Looks like time is no longer a factor Jon, just simply get Alex to the finishing line- at all - and you win.”

“I’ve got this. People often assume I must be a jockey so ... mighta missed my calling.”

Jon signals, leaps on and reaches back to give him an encouraging spank. So light, Alex sprints to the line with ease. Easily the victor, Jon takes a proper jockey pose on his back for Rachel - with Alex down on all fours.

Simultaneously, all four men draw their pineapple onto Alex. Paul traces a black line around Alex’s existing pineapple tattoo. Nish takes a side rib section and creates a cartoonish pineapple with a racing number of 00. Hugh takes his left back and does a large minimalist one and Jon, sitting cross legged, draws a small one holding up a trophy on the back of his leg just above the ankle.

_Nine._

“That was quite the show,” Al says, squatting down to Alex’s level. He shakes the ice in his empty cup. “Why don’t you go and fetch us a couple more of these whiskey ones, mate.”

Alex gets to his feet and Al rises alongside him.

“You heard the man, _chip chop!_ ” Greg hisses.

Alex scampers off to the kitchen and returns moments later to find Al sitting on a couch alongside Richard. He hands the men their drinks.

“Greg’s just been telling us what an excellent little foot stool you make. Care to demonstrate.” Al takes a smug sip.

“Al and I have both had a long day so – we’re just gonna need to put our feet up for a minute,” says Richard.

As Alex sinks back down, he begins to actively block out Greg and those shoes, Rachel and her constantly clicking camera, lest he become too aroused too soon in the evening.

The pair stretch their feet out across his back, sip on their whiskeys and continue to make small talk with Greg for the next few minutes.

His bare knees begin to ache, pins and needles pulse through his arms.

“Gentlemen. You’re both big lads – I think that’s just about enough on those knees, for now – he’s not as young as he used to be.”

Alex didn’t appreciate the insinuation he was old, but he was thankful he’d been relieved of the pressure, for now. He flexes his fingers to help with his circulation.

“Stand up.”

Al and Richard grab a handful of markers and each complete a thigh piece apiece. Al draws a large, long golden rectangle, colours that in and then outlines the whole thing in black. After adding some additional details it eventually comes to resemble a slice of pineapple. Richard marks out a basic one, wrapped with a banner, and then writes 3.141 across it. He labels it PI-napple underneath.

_Eleven._

“It seems Noel may have just stumbled upon the bucket of clothespins I _accidentally_ left lying around. Shall we go investigate?” It was hardly a question as Greg guides him along, one strong hand to the small of his back.

“Kinda like performance art, all this.” Noel smiles looking from the bin of pins to a nearly naked Alex.

“Sort of.”

“I was thinking I might just - ”

“Feel free.”

Mark and Tim trot over to check out the goings on. Alex tenses. This is the part that he had most dreaded. Seeing his best friends as they perhaps suspected him to be but now knew for certain he was. They already knew – about Greg, of course – and their involvement - just perhaps not to the extent of which it had evolved and all that that now entailed. _They already know, they know you – so there’s no reason to be weird_ – he reminds himself.

“Hey, Alex.” Mark tries his best to feign normalcy.

“Looks like fun.” Tim digs through the bucket and grabs a handful of pins. “Can we play?”

Greg shows Noel how to connect his pins to form a zipper while Mark and Tim dip into the bucket and begin to pin random spots all over his body. Noel creates one in the shape of a heart over Alex’s own. He also quickly crafts a cute PULL ME tag that hangs from the tail string. Tim pegs out pins to spell his own name across his thigh, Mark pins his ear lobes, his eyebrows and the ends of each finger – not painful places, just ones that made him look and feel extra absurd.

Joe surveys the situation, smiles at Alex, whispers something to Greg and then disappears.

“Boys.” He shakes the cup of markers.

As they each begin to draw, Greg strips off all the individually placed pins, leaving only the heart zipper.

Noel artfully sketches a large piece that covers his side ribs. He uses almost every colour available and within five minutes it’s a masterpiece.

“Wow! I didn’t think anyone would be able to make anything that looked even remotely _this good_ – very nice, Noel.”

“Thanks, Greg.” He gives a teacher’s pet look to Tim and Mark as Greg pulls him in for a side hug.

“Oops, sorry mate. _That hurt?_ ” Tim taunts him a little by bumping and nudging the pins. He completes his sloppy chest piece and displays it for Greg - who barely acknowledges it. “What, _nothing!?_ Really? That’s fucking art, mate!” Alex audibly laughs from behind the tape.

“No, you know what, sorry Tim, let me have another look here … okay, yeah – it’s absolute rubbish - _mate_.”

Mark chooses a small spot along his underwear line to draw a smiley faced one. It makes Alex giggle. The tape pulls against his cheeks as he smiles beneath it.

It turns out, nothing is so strange - between true friends.

_Fourteen._

“Here, hold this for a bit. Come on. This way.” Greg walks him down the hallway into the sitting room where Joe is perched on the edge of an armchair.

“I told Joe all about the new moves you’ve been working on,” Greg laughs.

Alex looks at him, confused.

“Your dance moves, mate.”

His eyes fall to the floor to hide the wave of mortification that washes over him.

“Well, let’s have it then! Dance, monkey - _dance_.”

Alex awkwardly shuffles to the far off beat of the music from down the hall. Joe is immediately unimpressed and expresses as much. Alex tries something different. “ _Boring!_ ” He does a little finishing move and presents his hands in a ta-da type fashion.

“Well, that was absolutely awful. Horrendous. Give me that.” He takes the cup of markers.

He grasps the Pull Me tag and smiles cruelly. “Now, a big spin I think – something to really finish off your routine, if we can even call it that.” He spins around. It rips the pins off leaving red welts in the shape of a heart around the pineapple tattoo Greg had drawn. They fall at Joe’s feet. Alex’s muffled cries escape through flared nostrils. He involuntarily spasms. “That move right there - better than anything you came up with on your own.”

“Arms together for me.” The speed and grace with which he shakes off the sensation and automatically presents his wrists and arms together as a flat, cohesive surface makes Joe smirk. He looks at Greg, and then Rachel conveying his knowing approval. He grabs a black marker and draws one image across both inner arms. Joe took his time with the little details. The marker strokes were beginning to be sort of soothing in a strange way. Everyone held him differently when trying to draw, different people used different pressures. Joe held him very gently, a barely there presence with only the lightest of grazes with the marker’s tip.

“I don’t know why I’ve even bothered giving you such a nice tattoo - when what you gave me barely qualified as a dance.”

_Fifteen._

“So, this is where you got off to.” Sally stands in the doorway, flanked by Aisling and Josh. Alex looks up and her eyes are locked onto his.

“Take him, frankly, he’s a bit of a bore.” Joe thrusts the cup back into Alex’s hands and whispers something to Greg on his way out.

His eyes are already gone, down the hallway, following after Joe’s trailing figure. “I’ll catch up with you in a bit, mate.”

Alex’s eyes fill with fear as he emits a barely audible whimper from behind the tape.

Greg turns back, with sincerity and trust conveyed easily through every feature. “You’re in safe hands, Alex. Sally? Safe hands, yeah.”

“Absolutely, Greg – you know me.”

“Yes. I do.” Greg scrutinizes her closely as he leaves.

Sally traces the heart of welts with two fingers, circles behind him and whispers against the back of his ear, “You know, Greg has let slip an awful lot about you _Little Alex Horne_.” Her finger slides along the inside of the collar exactly where the inscription was. _She did know._ “He can be quite chatty, can’t he - and he just loves to brag about all his personal possessions, _especially_ when they’re so highly sought after.” She circles back around and pushes him to his knees. A few of the markers spill from his cup.

“Pick them up.”

He scrambles to do so, quickly.

“Now. _Kneel_ \- before your king. The champion of champions - _Josh_.” Aisling places a dollar store crown atop his curls. He smiles sheepishly.

Sally slaps him hard across the face.

“Hey!” Josh shouts at her. “Greg _clearly_ said not to touch his face.” He looks to Alex, then over to Rachel. The camera clicks away.

“Greg said not to draw on this lovely little face of his, wording is key, _Joshie_.” She slaps him again, quickly followed by a backhand.

“Okay, but - ”

“And … ” She strikes again. “I can tell how much he likes it.” With each blow, the markers in the cup he clutches, rattle away.

She winds up for another. “I know him.” Josh grabs her forearm. “And he doesn’t.” He tries again, but fails, to get Rachel’s attention, and watches as she leans in for another artful shot of her husband’s suffering. Off in her own world.

“I know him too, and I happen to know he'd be thanking me right now if it weren’t for this tape. Isn’t that right, Alex?” Guilty eyes averted, he nods. Josh slowly lets go of his grip. He steps back. “And according to Greg’s rules, which I also know to be your rules, this is permitted, correct?” He nods again. Sally bends down, to whisper once more, “Letting our friends find out about our true nature, that can hurt most of all, hmm? It’s certainly worse than any slap across the cheek.” She stands up and steps back a bit. “Aisling? How about evening out his other side here for me?”

“Uh, yes please!”

“What, _not you too!?_ ”

“The little scoundrel, he knows he deserves it, not all of us got to be double champions.”

Sally shows her the proper technique, Aisling is a quick study. Josh watches on – curious, confused, but ultimately unable to do anything but stand back and let it unfold before him.

Once the ladies had determined their _blushing beauty_ to have a matching tone on either side they dig through the cup looking for simple blacks. Sally goes for a sensitive area along his collarbone, in dramatic cursive she writes out the word _pineapple_ , while Aisling does a tiny outline of one just behind his ear.

Josh reluctantly reaches into the cup and draws a green, he digs around until he discovers a gold. He sketches out a small one on his inner wrist. Alex could feel his friend’s gradual acceptance through his touch, through the gentle strokes of the marker and through the care he took making sure such a little piece really stood out, this one felt truly special.

_Eighteen._

He can feel a leash snap onto his collar. “My turn.” It was Mel.

She walks him out into the backyard, where Lolly and Roisin are waiting. Lolly holds a stick and Roisin holds a bag of mini brownie bites.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for us?” She unhooks him and relieves him of the cup. “Can you fetch?” Alex nods. Lolly throws the stick. He runs for it, but unsure how exactly to please them, he bends down to pick it up between his teeth. They go absolutely giddy over this. He sprints back. Lolly removes the stick. Roisin feeds him a treat. Again. A treat. Again a few more times, until he was noticeably slower on the return.

Alex looks expectantly for another brownie. “Look at those big puppy dog eyes. _What a mooch._ Rois, last one, that’s all he gets.” He savours it. “Come here.” He sits down by Mel who wraps him up in a big fuzzy blanket. He hadn’t realized how cold he was until they were already warming him up. Six hands pet him all over, through the blanket, giving him the strange sensation of having actual fur, he quite enjoyed it.

“All fours, Alex.” Mel strips the blanket away and reattaches the leash to his collar. She hands the cup around, each making their selection - Lolly draws a cute one on his right back, Roisin scratches an illegible one across his back calf and Mel creates a beautiful one between his shoulder blades, with fronds that creep up the back of his neck.

_Twenty one._

“Come on now Alex, I know there’s someone inside who’s been patiently waiting for her turn with you.” Mel leads him back into house and over to a couch where Katherine and Bob sit, sharing a laugh. They fall silent as he’s brought before them. She unhooks the leash, her gentle nails giving the back of his head a solid scritch. “Be a good boy, now.”

She hands the cup of markers to Bob and then rejoins the other ladies outside.

“Sit up for a second.” Katherine uses a fingernail to pick up a tiny corner of the tape along his cheek.

“I heard you really appreciate fine footwear.” She rips the tape from his lips. His eyes instantly water. “Is that true?”

“Y-y-yes, Katherine. And I think you have impeccable taste.”

She sticks the HUMILIATE ME tape to his forehead and beams. “Then, lick.”

He does so. Happily. Eagerly.

“So _compliant_. Yeah … isn’t this embarrassing for you?”

It was. But in all the right ways. He was deep in it now.

Bob's shoe moves atop his hand. “I believe Katherine just asked you a question, Alex.” He leans forward, slowly shifting more and more of his body weight onto that foot, crushing his hand with an incremental force.

His lips brush leather as he squeaks, “I’m not sure – I, uh - I’ve forgotten the question – I - apologize.”

“Isn’t this embarrassing for you?” Bob asks, simply, calmly.

“Yes!” He pulls his foot back. Alex flexes his hand but stays otherwise exactly in place. “Yes, _quite_.”

“ _Quite_ ,” Katherine scoffs, “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Long licks of leather. Wanton, worshipful kisses.

“What a good boy.” He could almost hear Bob having said it on set at Greg’s feet a few months back – lying in _his_ dog bed – before a studio audience. It was all coming full circle. Everyone did know, not just suspect, he was so obvious, but did it even matter?

“Turn for the camera. We want your lovely wife to get some good shots, don’t we? That’s it, _so slutty_ , just like that. Yeah, go on, give us some really good ones. We want an accurate depiction of your utter depravity. _Oooh!_ Fucking filthy.”

The moment threatens to sweep him away.

Greg returns to see Alex about to fully sub out at their feet and realizes it’s not yet the time to allow this. He slips a finger under his collar, urging him to stop and stand up.

“We’re just gonna borrow him a second. Before he’s completely unable to control himself.”

“Seems I simply don’t know my own power.”

Bob shakes the cup.

“Hold your fists out for me - like this.” Alex mimics her. “Gonna give you a little prison tat.”

Katherine spells out P-I-N-E-A-PP-L-E across both sets of knuckles in boxy block letters and Bob draws the tiniest one wearing sunglasses on his thumb.

_Twenty three._

“This way, Alex, time for a bit of a smoke break I should think. I just saw Rom and Joe heading out back.”

Greg ushers Alex outside. The grass squishes beneath his toes, cold and wet. Romesh lights a cigarette and extends the lighter to Joe, who leans in to light his own.

Greg shakes his pack until one butt emerges, his lips seize on it and slowly pull it free as his eyes shift back to Alex. He extends the pack. Alex reaches for one, but he pulls it away. “On second thought … ” He lights his. “I don’t think Rachel would like it. _Ohhh_ , don’t look at me like that - I wasn’t about to a really give you one anyway.”

“Do you have a butt bin around, or an ash tray?”

“I certainly do. Alex? Cup your hands together. Out in front of you.” He splashes a half glass of water into his hands. “Keep those fingers tight, now. Careful. Wouldn’t want to burn you.” Greg ashes into the water held by his hand bowl. Little sizzles.

As the three men chat, occasionally using him as an ash tray, he manages to keep much of the water in place. They toss the butts into his hand. He winces and looks away, but they merely singe out quickly, and then bob about in their filth.

Greg holds out the cup of markers. “He’s a little picked over for placement.”

“I dunno. Pretty prime real estate right here.” Romesh draws a purple one. A simple outline, but with nice details.

“There’s plenty of space here too, but he’s a pretty hairy little fucker, so it seems like everyone’s just been generally avoiding this whole region.” Joe scribbles across the centre of his belly. It’s an unattractive set of lines, in orange, that in no way resembles any fruit that has ever existed.

_Twenty five._

They all head back inside. Alex dumps the butts into a designated bin, wipes his hands off on the wet grass and turns to follow them in but looks up to see Greg blocking the doorway.

“Not yet, Alex.”

“But - ” He rubs his arms, shivering slightly as he shifts from foot to foot.

Greg steps aside and out come Doc, Frank and Dave. They each have a marker. Frank frames his kneecap with fronds that work their way up his thigh, Dave draws one resembling an old stamp on his hand and Doc quickly squiggles a simple leg piece.

_Twenty eight._

Dave hands Alex an extra large black garbage bag. “Put this on.”

“Pardon?”

“Like if you were in a potato sack race.”

“This is all of it.” Greg hands Doc a mishmash tray of unfinished drinks and desserts from inside as Alex steps into the bottom of the bag and pulls it up around his belly.

“Don’t clutch it so tight,” Doc advises, “Use it more like a catch – for all the way round you. Greg doesn’t want a mess.”

_“Quite right.”_

“Close your eyes,” Frank snickers. “And try not to flinch.”

They pour leftover pina coladas and melted ice creams over his head. He gasps at the sudden chill, as they drip down his face, his back and soon coat much of his entire body. Everyone laughs, especially Alex.

He is absolutely freezing at this point, and despite all his hysterics, it isn’t until he begins to physically tremble, that Greg sends them back inside.

“Greg?” He leans in close as Alex whispers through thick cream-covered lips that drip.

“Yes?”

“That’s all twenty eight, sir.”

“Good boy. Let’s go get you all cleaned up, then aye?”

Alex uses the inside of the garbage bag to wipe the cold cream from his eyes. “Yes, please.” His teeth chatter.

He escorts him to the bathroom for a shower. Alex hops and scuffles along inside his garbage bag.

Greg heats it up for him, holds a hand under the water until it’s the proper temperature and then helps him get inside. It was fiddly and Alex would _definitely_ have some cleaning up to do in the morning, but as he climbs in, he leaves those pink pineapple pants, along with most of the mess, behind in the bag.

“May I please use your - ?”

“Use whatever you like.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The water feels wonderful as it washes away all the muck and sticky sweets from his body, replacing them with comforting, very familiar scents. He wants to revel a little longer, but knows this kindness shouldn’t be taken for granted. After all, the party was far from over.

As he gets out Greg hands him a towel, pleased that the permanent marker pineapple pictures are still so present.

“How do you feel?”

“Refreshed and ready to go, Greg – sir.”

Greg’s smile breaks into a beaming wide one. Just for a quick flash, but Alex caught it.

“Water?”

“Yes, please.” He hands him a glass

“Has everything been okay, doesn’t feel too far or - ?”

“No. I just - sorta shocked myself, I guess. In that – it feels weird - that none of it feels that weird.”

“Alex … You do understand the _theme_ of tonight’s party, yeah?”

“Not to be rude, but - _yes_ – you haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”

“Everyone out there just thinks it’s a funny, inside joke type thing, from the show. Katherine, Mel and Sally are the only ones who know this is also your safe word. _Listen_ , I know just how much you live to be humiliated, so you can consider all that an elaborate four play of sorts, but know this, _Alex_ , I will be hearing you say pineapple tonight – because I need to know that you will use it, we've played a long time now - sometimes _quite_ _hard_ – and I’ve never seen you safe. Believe me when I tell you – you will be using it tonight, because we will not be stopping until you ask us to, properly. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I do, and I will, but what should I do about - ?”

Greg holds up an identical pair of pink pineapple pants. “They came in a three pack.”

x

“That concludes the front of house service for the night.” There were cheers for Alex, a few whistles. “Please - help yourselves to what’s left.” He cranks the music.

Greg takes Alex by the shoulders, guides him down the hallway and through his open bedroom door. He kicks it closed behind him. There are distant voices and girlish giggles, but as they round the corner into the open dungeon all four women turn and fall silent.

“Get the door, Alex.” His hands leave his shoulders as he joins them at a nearby table. He can hear Greg's whispers and make out a few light laughs between the scratches of metal latches.

He turns back to see all five watching him, sizing him up, ten penetrative eyes, locked onto him. There is a large white screen pulled down as a backdrop that he’d never seen before. Greg leans up against the table, Katherine sits atop it, her hands playing through his hair. Sally sits the other side, her leg wrapped round the back of his. She bends forward, exposing her cleavage, a hand running along Greg’s upper thigh. He motions to Mel and Rachel who close in on Alex, each grab one of his arms and walk him forward, toward the table. They get about halfway.

“That’s close enough.” Mel and Rachel return to their places. “We won’t be needing you just yet. Now, _kneel_ and wait until we’re ready for you.” Alex does. “Good boy. So, ladies, I'm curious to know all the goings on. How did he behave whilst I was away?”

“Oh so obedient,” says Katherine, “If anything, I’d say a bit overzealous. He’s quite the eager little beaver.”

“Very agreeable, isn’t he? _So far_ I’ve been _fairly_ impressed,” Sally sasses.

“He's been extremely well-trained.” Mel smiles sweetly. “Kudos – to you both.”

“Why don’t I just show you _exactly_ how he did, Greg. I've put the best shots on a loop for you.” Rachel moves to a side table and plays around with her phone for a second. “Got some really good ones – there’s a couple in particular that I think you’re definitely going to enjoy.”

“Pretty glowing reviews so far, Alex. Shall we take a peek?”

Rachel flicks off the lights and the large screen is illuminated with image after image of him, humiliated, close ups of all he had endured throughout the evening. He watches as the events play back, this time from the outside perspective. He’d just lived it, and now he was witnessing it - what so many others had seen.

“These first ones you’ll probably recognize.” She clicks through photos of plastic palm frond fanning, horsey poses and stops when she gets to one which features two large pairs of shoes atop his back – complete with blissed out face to boot. “This was a particular favourite of mine.”

_“Oooh!”_

His body covered in pins. The heart zipper, with special focus drawn to the Pull Me tag. His head droops as images of his dance are revealed to much mockery. There is a mixture of laughter and delight for the next one, which perfectly captures his torqued reaction as the heart zipper is torn from his chest. Snickers swell and subside as the photos roll on.

Sally strides up, grasps him roughly by the hair and tilts his face back toward the screen. “ _Pay attention, Alex._ Our big moment is coming up. You won’t want to miss that.”

A wince as he braces himself. His contorted face mid impact. Rachel had even managed to capture the smallest of smiles, his emblazoned eyes, only seconds after a good slap. He saw the look in his own eye and found it difficult to bear watching much more of himself.

The action shot of Sally’s backhand is a particular highlight for everyone.

“And that’s soft core to you, _is it, Sally?_ ” Greg chides.

“Yeah. Just giving those cheeks a little colour. So fucking pale.” She whispers to him, “I saw how much you loved it – the pain, I saw. You really switch on. Just look at your face in that one, hmm. I just knew I wasn’t wrong about you. We're gonna have so much fun tonight, Alex. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Well, if I’d have known we were allowed to go that far … ”

“You’d have what, Katherine? One more minute with you and he’d have had quite the erection to explain.”

A photo of Alex, stick between his teeth is next to grace the screen.

Mel snaps and points to her feet. “Come and sit by me for this next bit.” She strokes him possessively, while images of fetch, treats and warm, fuzzy pets fill the screen. “These came out beautiful, Rachel. Your wife really is a talent.”

“ _She is_ , in all sorts of ways.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere - _sweetheart_. I’ve got to say - these ones are adorable Mel and Sally’s are – well, deplorable, but this next set are by far my favourites. Katherine was the only one who actively assisted me by considering the angles, directing his action, setting up certain shots.”

“It helps when your subject’s already an absolute slut for feet,” Katherine teases.

“And leather,” adds Rachel.

Alex’s eyes - drunk with lust - lips linger - tongue to leather. Worshipping a shapely woman’s boot, whilst being crushed under a man’s shoe. His face tilted to camera. A familiar finger urging him back from subspace.

Greg can’t stand it any longer. “What a fucking slut.”

Images of Alex as an ash tray, then covered in cream, roll in the background and circle back to the beginning – on a loop.

“Stand up. Come closer. _Closer_. Mmm – that mouth - you want something else to occupy that mouth of yours, _do you?_ ” Slides his finger in and along his tongue - just once.

“Yes, sir,” he answers past the finger being pulled from his lips.

“Pretty sure we have just the thing for that, don’t we Greg?” Katherine strokes the length of his cock through his trousers. Alex is half hard by the insinuation alone. Their eyes eat him alive - they devour him. He watches as Rachel whispers something to Mel before the two disappear from his view. “Let's lose these.” Greg snaps the band of his pants, much harder than he had earlier. “I think we’re all agreed they’re not hiding much.” Alex quickly rids himself of them.

Katherine’s deft hands ease Greg from his pants.

Sally wedges his mouth open and forces four fingers down his throat until he gags. “ _Oooh! Fun!_ I’m gonna go see if I can’t find us a few toys to play with, be right back.”

Katherine tilts his chin and feeds in Greg’s cock.

“Come on, Alex. _All of it._ You’re not quite there yet, but - ”

_“Almost.”_

Alex giggles and the rest slides in easily.

“Has this little shit got you good and hard for me, yet? Hey, greedy – haven’t you had enough down there? I think it’s just about my turn, no.”

He pushes Alex off his cock. “Your _turn_ , is it? What am I, a fucking carnival ride?” He hooks her legs round his waist and slides her closer.

“Well – yeah, sort of,” she smiles wickedly.

His hands skim up her skirt and encounter no further barriers. “Another excellent choice.”

“You’ll find I'm full of them.”

“Not yet, but something tells me you’re about to be.” He teases her slippery slit with a fingertip. “Do you know the magic words?”

“Fuck me, Greg.”

“Close enough.” He exchanges his fingers for his cock, slowly teasing the same line back and forth a few times before sinking in. Katherine whines wantonly as he delves deeper and deeper inside.

Sally returns with a long, single tail bull whip. Alex shudders as she begins to shift his body into the appropriate position. Rachel and Mel, adorned with strap on cocks, have also returned, and they hop up on the table alongside Katherine – who’s being absolutely ravaged by Greg. Rachel offers Alex her cock and Mel pushes his head down on it. He gags. She laughs. There is a loud crack through the air as the whip strikes the cement just next to his foot. _Another crack!_ This time it bites the very tip of his pinkie toe. He startles, but Mel holds him firmly in place, guiding his head as his tongue slides across his wife’s cock.

“Stay nice and still now. Don’t make me miss.” She skillfully dances the whip’s tip from heels to hips. There would be no warm up. Not tonight. Sally’s straight in. She leaves vicious welts that sting long after there are at least ten more. His head swims with sensation, grounded only by Mel’s comforting hand on his neck, keeping his mouth and mind busy. In his peripheries he can see snatches of Greg’s hips thrusting away. He can hear his grunts, as well as Katherine’s sighs of approval.

Mel pulls him off Rachel, tilts his neck and offers her own cock. Alex devours it, hungrily, wanting to stifle his moans from beneath endless blows. Marks are beginning to cross previous ones, the layering effect is intense, and building. His skin is ablaze. Adrenaline courses through him.

Greg and Katherine kiss. She scootches back a bit as he slides Rachel over. Katherine bites the back of her neck as she removes her top, followed by her own. Greg properly worships each of Rachel’s breasts as they’re revealed to him. She grabs his cheeks and kisses him, deeply. He pulls back, a sadistic smile tugs at the corners of his mouth - he flips her over. She giggles. And he's inside. Rachel trails a teasing tongue down through the valley between her breasts. She leans her back as her mouth moves lower. Greg fucks her hard and fast. Rachel feasts on Katherine’s cunt.

“Yes! _Fuuuuuuck_.” Katherine comes as Alex wails out with pain, past Mel’s cock, and under Sally’s relentless strikes. She wears an unnerving, sadistic sneer that Greg recognizes all too well. Alex is desperately in need of a small breather. And Sally is not about to give him one.

Greg pulls out and Katherine pulls Rachel into her arms for a little cuddle as her muscles relax and her body normalizes.

“Are you intentionally trying to break my toys, dear?” Greg grasps Sally’s wrist firmly. The whip’s length falls limp across the floor. “You’ve been playing rather harshly this evening – even by your standards.”

“I thought you liked watching me wreck your things.”

“True, I do. So really though, pushing him that far that fast, you were really just trying to get my attention, correct? Well Sally – you’ve got it.” He backs her away a few steps.

Mel jumps off the table. She touches his already bruising marks with soothing fingers and slides her cock into his ass. Rachel moves alongside her, rubbing and slapping her strap on across his ass – in wait.

Katherine is in his ear, but he finds it hard to focus on anything she says as Rachel and Mel begin to trade off on his hole. “What a dirty fucking whore you are - letting us all use you like this – fucking cuck - mmm- and your wife’s tongue – _ooh_ she made me come - talk about talented – were you watching – did you like that - you can take cock so nicely, can’t you - do you suppose that’s why she keeps you around, I mean, why else would anyone – _ever_ \- want to otherwise - a beta bitch boy like you – hmm – just a couple holes for everyone to use – is that it?”

“Hit me. Go on, slap me as hard as you hit Alex earlier.”

She does. He isn’t phased.

“Again.” The sound of skin to skin. He grins. _“Again.”_ She winds up, and swings – but he grasps her wrist a second time, squeezing it much more tightly this time. “What’s the saying, Sally? Treat others how you yourself wish to be treated.” He twists her around, pulls her back tight to his body, hands savagely groping her breasts, her curves. “I see you like to play pretty rough, _hmm_.” Greg growls against her ear. He pushes her down, into the matting, and pins her there under a controlled but crushing amount of his weight. He rips enough of her clothing aside until he’s inside, fucking her with fervor, forcefully pressing her into the padding.

“Yes, Greg – _oh fuck_ – yes.”

He thrusts in sharp, deep strokes that cause her to scream out.

Mel runs her hand along the back of his neck, between his shoulder blades, all along her drawing. “You know,” Mel says eloquently, in a loud, narrator type tone so everyone in the room could hear her clearly, “Pineapples are one of the purest of fruits, in a symbolic sense anyway, free from the stigmas that engulf so many others. While the apple was tainted by Creationism and the pomegranate by Persephone, the pineapple was long considered a completely blank page onto which ruling powers could press their own meanings.”

Greg stops, turns Sally over, sits her up and barks, “Bring him here for a moment.” Mel steps aside, she and Rachel shove him to the mat. He falls onto hands and knees, and crawls toward Sally’s open legs. Greg grasps his hips and pulls him into position.

“Would you like to hear Claudia Bakker's Ode to the Pineapple, next?”

_“Would I?”_

Mel sits down cross-legged next to Sally and caresses her thigh, both inviting and appetizing a waiting Alex.

_“Sitting underneath a starless sky, Darkness creeping infinitely nigh, Upon this night so cold and so wry, The nothingness reaches farther than a single cry.”_

Greg fucks him.

_“In the far distance the eye does behold, An ovoid beauty of promise and gold, Posture and elegance in grand they uphold, An unexpected appearance – that all familiar jolt.”_

Greg and Sally both hold his mouth tight against her, forcing him to eat her out and occasionally, completely asphyxiating him between her legs.

_“Seeking survival, hostile, hidden from sight, Deliciously flavoured – juicy, sweet bite, Exploding senses preparing to ignite, Inspiring to escape from the suffocating night. Bright knight of delight.”_

“Is that the best you can do?” Sally hissed, her voice defying her words. Finally, just as Alex felt as though he almost had her there, she kicks him aside, not allowing him the satisfaction of succeeding, “I’ll do it myself.” A few flicks from her fingertips and she comes all over his face.

Greg pulls out, drags his body back toward the table and throws his upper half across it. Mel follows, hopping back up onto the table next to Alex, his lips and chin glossy with come.

“You’ll like this one, Alex,” Mel says, “It’s a shortie - but a goodie.” Greg puts him back into position as Sally stands up and straightens her skirt. Greg hands her the single tail. “An old Haitian proverb. _‘Only the knife knows the heart of a pineapple.’_ ”

The whip slices his now super sensitized skin, sending jolts of pain straight to his brain. Each new contact sings, impossible to ignore and increasingly difficult to recover from.

Rachel and Greg join him, on the other side of the table, their faces just inches from his, her fingers rubbing circles atop his hands. His eyes well up, clouding his vision as they begin to fuck. They’re so close that he can’t not watch. Can’t not hear every single pleasure shared between them.

“Katherine, would you be kind enough to lend our boy there a bit of a hand.”

“With pleasure, _your Lordship._ ” She starts violently wanking him off, all while Sally steadily continues with her onslaught.

“The essayist Charles Lamb wrote of the fruit's erotic appeal and described the _‘pineapple [as] great … indeed almost too transcendent - a delight, if not sinful, yet so like to sinning, that really a tender-conscienced person would do well to pause._ ”

Sensory overload sets in. Bombarded by it all, but in particular, Mel’s words, which seem to be doing strange things to his brain.

_“Too ravishing for mortal taste … like a lover’s kisses she biteth … a pleasure bordering on pain, from the fierceness and insanity of her relish.’”_

The humiliation, the pain – it was excruciating, his need for release – absolutely unbearable.

 _“Something tells me we’re just about there,”_ teases Rachel.

“ _Almost_ ,” Greg growls and Alex’s mind boils over for the final time.

Everything comes together, crescendos. Sally’s strikes rain down on raw flesh. Mel’s words reverberate through his head like a haunting melody as Katherine's hands move lightning fast across his cock. Greg and Rachel come, almost simultaneously. _Almost_.

His body tenses, and he comes – with a small squeak.

Katherine doesn’t stop though – no - not after he’s come – not even after he starts to go soft. The pain shoots through every nerve ending in his now super sensitive dick.

“No! Please, stop! For fuck’s sake - I can’t – I – FUUUUUCK! ”

Tears flood forth. Sally's continued whipping scorching his skin with it’s vicious slices.

 _“PINEAPPLE! Fuck!”_ He screams out.

Everything stops.

“There it is.” Greg smiles.

He collapses onto the cold cement, writhes around a minute. Heaving breaths. Heart racing. Mind – _gone_.

Greg and Rachel squat down over his broken body.

“A couple of these are real works of art, even nicer than the actual thing, aye?”

He stirs as they touch various tattoos around his body, and sighs, one out of warmth and complete comfort, despite being naked, sprawled across the cement floor.

“Oh, I dunno – I like the real one. The original. It’s very – _him_.”

“It is, innit.” He can feel Greg’s thumb run across it.

He giggles to himself as his breathing begins to normalize. His body aches, muscles tired and tender, but head brimming with happiness.

Greg picks him up off the floor and Rachel wraps him up in a large fuzzy robe as they sit him down.

Mel scratches his hair, his head is bent low. “I had a great night. I hope you enjoyed yourself too.” He nods and leans into her last few pets.

Sally bends down and very sweetly kisses the cheek she had swatted earlier, running one finger along her handwriting, along his exposed collarbone. “Be seeing you.”

Katherine gently takes his hands and urges him to his feet. “I like to hug it out after.” She pulls him into a warm embrace. “Mmm – much better.”

The ladies return to the party proper and leave the other trio a moment to themselves.

Greg holds up a bottle of baby oil. “Shall we get all of those off you now?”

“Could I keep them til tomorrow? I quite like them.”

“Sure, just for tonight though.”

Rachel hands him a few of his favourite, most comfortable clothes.

He zips up his jeans, voice full of a deep sincerity. _“Thank you.”_ He pulls a soft jumper over his head, his next words muffled by the fabric. “For everything.” They each peck a cheek as his face emerges from within the garment.

“Let’s go enjoy the rest of your party, sweetie.”

x

The music blares. People laugh and yell and dance as they drink and succumb to the energy of the night; one of no self consciousness, one of total freedom, fun and acceptance among friends. One of no judgements, where silliness was permitted, encouraged even, and playtime, was just that.

Rachel sneaks up behind Alex, gives him a kiss on the cheek and extends a small dessert bowl. “I lied earlier. I saved enough stuff to make you one more.”

“You spoil me – I look forward to returning the favour, Rach.”

Greg hands them each a bourbon. “I opened up the good bottle just for us. Shhhhh. Cheers.” The three clink glasses and share in a ceremonial sip.

The party rages on!

x

It's late, well, _very early_ actually, when the last of the Ubers had departed with the remaining guests. Rachel, Alex and Greg sit outside in the cool night breeze, huddled up in blankets – snuggled together tight. Brains foggy with bourbon.

“I’m fading fast here, boys,” she yawns, “I’m gonna go head off to bed if that’s alright.”

“Keep me company while I finish my drink?” Greg nudges Alex, he nods. “We’ll be along shortly, love.”

Alex pulls the blanket tighter round his frame. He laughs lightly, “I still can’t believe you got every single person to show up, let alone agree to all that. Surreal.”

“Believe me - it really wasn’t that hard. Humiliate a man who spent months humiliating you - and who clearly enjoys it. I mean, it’s schadenfreude and all that, innit. Most of them said you had it coming, mate.”

“I actually, genuinely didn’t know that – that everyone - ”

“I know.” Greg sips at his whiskey and then pulls him tight, resting his chin atop his head. “But now that you do know, I'll tell you this, I have _quite a few friends_ who want on your show now - now that they’ve seen who you are, the underpinnings of the joke such as they are – I won’t mention any names, of course, we'll keep the suspense – I was tempted to invite a few of them tonight, but it was alumni only after all - they'll have to earn it, aye? _Also_ , I did a bit more research into the use of pineapples as a symbol, not just the literature quotes I had Mel throw at you in there.”

_“You did?”_

Greg polishes off the last of the bourbon. “Yeah – I did. And there were a few things I found particularly interesting. To eat one in a dream implies a fulfillment of one's deepest yearnings. They're frequently used to symbolize creativity, intimacy and sensuality. They've been thought to help boost self confidence, strengthen will power and improve one’s chances of success. Over the years they’ve even been thought to ward off jealousy, greed and envy, whilst helping to forge strong relationship bonds. At first - when I wondered why you’d use it so often - I thought of it’s more obvious physicality - the tough exterior - masking a certain sweetness within. Golden. Royal. I figured it was just you again referencing me, right, alongside your collection of photos. Just more of me. Yet another version. And then I remembered your tattoo – and I wasn’t so sure. The more I read, the more I realized, it’s actually more of a stand in for _you, innit?_ Place one in your home to create a friendly, welcoming environment. Full of good cheer. A space for both pleasure and leisure. And to encourage warmth and affection between all those who dwell within. This whole story you’ve concocted – for the show – that the two of us live on that property together – me in that tiny cottage and you in that fucking caravan - is it your way of being immortalized alongside me - is it about the fantasy that you serve me full-time in that house – just the two of us - together? All the photos, the artistic renderings, I am everywhere throughout that house. And so are you … ? Just - in a more hidden way, a way for just you to privately appreciate? Fuck it, I'm just rambling aren’t I, did I get anything anywhere close to right or - ?”

Alex shrugs with a smirk, unwilling, or perhaps simply unable, to elaborate any further.

“Come on you. Bedtime.”

They manage to stumble inside and into the bedroom.

Alex heads straight for the dog bed but Greg waves him off. “Hey, hey - not tonight. In the bed - with us – come on.” Greg crawls into the middle and Rachel sighs as she snuggles into his body.

He tucks her hair behind her ear and whispers, “Thanks for all the help with everything, Rach. Sweet dreams.”

Her mouth mostly buried in the pillow she mumbles only half coherently, “Hmm? Mmm-hmm, g'night – mmm - my guys.”

Alex climbs in, tentatively.

 _“Oh c’mere you,”_ Greg coos, pulling him tight against his other side.

He felt so truly at peace; his body, his mind, felt healed in a way he hadn’t even been aware was broken. He felt more whole somehow, more himself. It isn’t long before their shared body warmth along with all the comforts of Greg’s bed causes Alex to drift off, but just before his brain finally clicks off for the night, a whisper breaks the silence.

“Alex?”

“Yes, Greg?”

“Thank you for tonight.”

_“Pardon?”_

“You were such a good boy tonight - for me - for us. _All night._ I’m really proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you - I mean - _wouldn’t_ – _I wouldn’t have done it without you, Greg_. Good night.”


End file.
